famousslimandmighty

I do.  From every angle.  As an intelligent young mind waiting to be fed the knowledge I so desperately wanted as a student.  As an eager, prepared and inspired new teacher beat down by the bureaucracy of the broken public education system.  And especially as the mother of an extremely intelligent, atypical, anxious and sensitive child.  I take umbrage at the public education system from every aspect, every stage of my life.  You are failing.

The system is ran by business-minded, bottom dollar thinking bureaucrats. The individual is a number on a grid, a dollar in the district’s pocket, a test score that will hopefully up the desirability of the school district.  I’ve seen it in the two short years my oldest has been in school, I’ve heard it in meetings when I was a teacher, and I felt it as a self-motivated docent.  It’s wrong.  It’s completely asinine that a system that should be built around nurturing and enlightening the next generation is actually contributing to their collective boredom and distaste for the so-called learning process.  Where did the empathy go in education?  Where did all the professionals who want to make a difference run off to?  I’m assuming if a child is only seen as a small part of a whole and not an individual with unique needs than it’s easy to lose one’s humanity.  All the budget changes in education seem to distract the tenured teachers from the real reason one gets into a low-paying, extremely rewarding, high-stakes career.

In reviewing Famous’ first grade school year I realized  the teachers directly involved with his instruction knew very little about him.  His report card was littered with labels the teachers had learned over the past twenty something years of being in the classroom and firmly attached them to my son.  Defiant, distracted, reluctant, disrespectful… but yet, totally competent in academics.  Hmmmm, strange.  So my son questions the relevance of the curriculum, is confused as to why he must complete assignments that resemble one another time and time again, refuses to fit in the box these robotic evaluators have created and yet deemed gifted, highly intelligent.  Does this not offend you as it does me?  Are you not aggrieved at this broken system and the amateur administration that runs it?  My child will likely continue to receive mediocre grades because of his reluctance to conform and he’ll continue to fight me every morning about going to school-the place he hates the most, and I’ll continue to fight for his right to live outside of the box and be a special (and marginalized) little boy.

I am as confident in my ability as a mother, as I was as a student and a teacher so my children will have an advocate, a champion, to fight in their honor through their educational journeys.  If I need to combine all three hats (mom, student, teacher) I will happily oblige if it means preserving my children’s love of the learning process.  This umbrage I take is fierce and forthcoming.  I am a soldier, ready to go to war for my children and the preservation of their young minds and hearts.  With a new school year looming, and a second child entering the public system the stakes have never been higher for my family.  I challenge parents to question the educational system, stand up for your children’s innate love for learning, be indignant because this system doesn’t work, has never worked, and will never work.  So, I take umbrage at education.

Mighty had her resting bitch face on most of her birthday. Poor thing felt terrible. I heard her tummy gurgling and she was stinky, and whiny, but if she was outside? Totally content. I’m not sure if she smiled even once while we sang her happy birthday. I have to assume it’s because of the harsh antibiotics, otherwise; her fever is gone and she’s eating better. She was so clingy today I thought she was trying to get back inside my belly. She made preparing food more like an obstacle course… hanging onto my leg for dear life while I was moving from the stove to the cutting board to the sink. I’m definitely not complaining about it. I’ll take all the snuggles I can get while she’s offering. As I know one day she will be done with me.

Mighty could not care less about the celebration going on around her. We didn’t have a birthday party due to a series of unfortunate events leading up to her glorious day and I’m glad we didn’t because SHE COULD NOT CARE LESS. I have yet to actually have a birthday party for one of my children’s first birthdays. We celebrate, of course, with our family, but a full on party with invites, gifts, themes and color schemes, hell no. The child doesn’t remember nor appreciate the hard work that goes into his/her party and I’m not crafty or rich. It’s that simple. The only consistency on Famous, Slim, and Mighty’s first birthdays was the silly blue crown that they each wore while sitting in their highchairs, listening to their birthday songs. I like having a little tradition in my keepsakes, although Mighty was unimpressed.

 Is that a smile I see?

Nope.

Not even a hint of a smile. The look on her face screams… “What the f*ck are you staring at?” She did LOVE her watermelon and coconut cream “birthday cake” though, which makes me happy because her sensitive tummy has never handled dairy well (through breastmilk) so I had to come up with something edible and treat-like and messy for her to destroy without it destroying her. Total success.

The closest thing to a smile from the birthday girl happened when she was outside. Maybe I perceived a smile… through her eyes…

Regardless of how the day went, it went. She’s one. year. old. And I’m super sad about her getting older. Babies aren’t babies long enough, in my opinion. And each milestone she passes is just another reminder of that fact.  Hopefully she’ll be back to her glowing self soon.

I’m glad it’s today and not one year ago today because one year ago today I felt like my vagina was falling off. For reals. I’m glad we are here cuddling in my big, comfy bed and not watching you get poked and handled at every inconvenient time possible while lying in a horrendous hospital bed. I can’t believe how quickly this year zoomed by and I know it’s such a cliché statement but it did. And I didn’t feel like that with Famous or Slim. What was a year, seemed like a year with the boys. Maybe it has something to do with life being a tad bit busier than those days. Just a smidge crazier. I dunno. It’s possible. I’m also glad you’re feeling a bit better from your very traumatic and very first ailment. You have been through a catheter-double-injection-yuckyantibiotic-hell and you are finally on the mend. Quite the beast you are, girl. I shouldn’t be surprised considering your brother is The Hulk. Thank you for being such a little lover. You’re so cuddly and smiley and lovey with me and your Daddy and brothers. It’s exactly what I need. I hope you continue to be adventurous like your brothers and I bet you can’t wait to join their clown posse. All the magical pretending you get to take part in. I hope they continue to protect you and your innocence as they do now. No need to grow up quickly. Thank you for melting your Daddy into putty on a daily basis.

All you have to do is batt those beautiful eyelashes his way and he’s toast. I’ve never seen him so attentive and present. I love it. You are such a blessing and you are loved so much. You are worth every grueling minute of labor. But don’t think I’m not saving the video proof forever in case I need to guilt you into something important later in your life, little lady. God, I’m scared for your future. Idiots are breeding idiots and you’re bound to have to deal with LOTS of them and I hate knowing that. I hope you strive to be a kind, strong, smart(god-forbid), conscientious, well-intentioned person to offset that other large, inevitable group of idiots that will accompany you in your future endeavors.

Please do not care that you are beautiful. Appreciate it, but don’t rely on it. You had no control over it. It’s sheer luck of the (DNA) draw, Lovey. Learn as many skills as you can. Those are worth your time and energy.

I’ve noticed your leg rolls are slowly diminishing and you’re on the verge of running. I’m sad that you are growing. Why can’t you stay a baby for a little longer? I need more time to kiss your leg rolls and elbow dimples. I love your gap between your front teeth and I know as more teeth come in that may close. I’m sad. Please stay little. I love cuddling with you. I can’t believe you are one year old. I can’t believe how amazing you are. I love you, Mighty. Happy birthday.

 What a slacker I’ve been.  There’s a million reasons why I’ve been slacking when it comes to the blog, but I’m just gonna collectively combine all the excuses for not posting as of late and name it LIFE.  LIFE has been robbing me of creative energy. When I have some free adult time to myself it has been spent eating, or watching television or… showering.  Basically anything involving little-to-no effort!  Since the birth of Mighty hygiene, house cleaning, and creativity have become less important. And I’m semi-okay with that realization.  I mean… as long as all three kids are alive, fed, entertained, and mostly clean I’m doing a pretty damn good job.  I just suck at taking care of ME and doing what I want to do in order to maintain a certain level of sanity and dignity.  For example, it had been so long since I had last washed my hair that I felt compelled to wash it twice.  With two different shampoos.  Yep, I’m that awesome.

I need to figure out how to get motivated and engage my mind once the kiddies are asleep because there is some seriously funny shit happening on the daily that I’ve been neglecting to share because I’m too lazy to relay the information.  But there’s plenty of time for that later, when the memories flash into my head… right now I’m gonna talk about something very important.  Me.

Today, I was putting together some party favors for Famous’ upcoming birthday extravaganza when I realized I’m having a birthday soon too.  Gasp!  How did I forget about ME?  My birthday used to be a very exciting day.  I looked forward to the EVERYTHING MUST PERTAIN TO ME day… so needy, I am.  I think it’s normal for anyone who has a birthday that falls within a few weeks of Christmas to feel this way.  Specifically AFTER Christmas.  I say this because as a kid I cannot express enough how often I heard “I’m still (financially) recovering from Christmas,” or how often I received a Christmas SLASH birthday gift.  Um, no.  They are two different gift-receiving holidays, okay?  You do NOT give a middle child any more of a reason to feel slighted.  I was the quintessential middle child with the needy, overly-honest, totally dramatic, what-about-me, personality.  So, MY birthday was very important to ME.  As I got older that sentiment never faltered, until I had my first child.

 I was forced to surrender my thunder to my first-born child, having given birth to him one week after my beloved day of birth.  I’m not saying anyone made me do it, it just sorta happened.  Our birthdays are so close together one would think a collective birthday celebration could work, but NOOOOOOOOOOO.  Famous has places and people and ideas about how “his day” should be.  Now I spend my birthday week (yeah, I said week) running errands for his birthday hullabaloo.  Don’t get me wrong I take pleasure in bringing such a special day together with his friends and family.  I’ve made him the same cake for his birthday since he was old enough to ask for it. Chocolate Cream Cheese M&M cake. Yummmmmmmm.  BUT. I also miss out on being treated like royalty all week by Hubby.  I used to say things like, ”Babe, carry me to the car… I’m too awesome to walk.”  And he would.  Or, “I’m gonna have wine for breakfast.  Wine and bacon.  Please make it?”  And he would.  Aw, those were the days.  Now when I say it’s my birthday my excitement is met with whiney, gripes like, “Does that mean we have to do what YOU want to do all day?”  Famous, my overly-honest and completely literal being.  “Yes.”  I reply, “That’s EXACTLY what it means now go fetch Mama some grape juice.”  Or my envious Slim would say, “I wish it was MY birthday!”  In his pouty slash angry tone that rears its ugly head fifty times a day, crossing his arms and kicking the nearest object to his right foot.  But what’s most surprising is it’s me that sloughs off any plans that the hubby puts out there for me to weigh in on, “No, I don’t wanna do dinner, you don’t have to cook (be afraid if he did!), don’t buy me a cake… “  All of my energy is spoken for.  I don’t have room for a birthday dinner, where I get dressed up and put mascara on my face and be fancy.  That’s asking too much of me.  It, unfortunately, does not sound like fun.  And it’s so not like me to feel this way!  Or at least the old me. This me is very sleepy. But I digress.

I’ve embraced the fact that I will always be preparing for Famous’ birthday celebration on and around my birthday from here on.  One day I will be excited that my birthday is overlooked.  No one to point out how old I’m getting.  One day… 

So I recently read a blog post that several of my friends (also stay at home mamas) shared on the old Facebook and it got me feeling rather validated in my feelings regarding my job.  My very important, time-consuming, AHHHHmazing and frustratingly temper-testing, thankless J. O. B.  Now, I once was a paid employee AND a mama and I know how difficult that is.  I would never say that the other side of this fence has it easier or is less deserving of merit, BUT I will say having a career and then coming home to your children is different in many ways.  In my experience. On top of having a career, I was also a  commuter.  I woke up at four in the morning to drive across the county and I would get home barely in time to make some dinner, do bath time and put the little sucker to bed.  I also spent my days off catching up on laundry and cleaning and hanging with my kiddo.  I am confident that my experience with both lifestyles allows me to have an opinion that should be valued.

Stay at Home Mama should be synonymous with Beck and Call Bitch and Taxi Extraordinaire.  If I’m being honest.  Oh, you have poo-poo in your diaper?  Well then, allow me to rid you of that.  What’s that you say?  You feel like eating a waffle WHOLE with only butter and it must be on a napkin instead of a plate?  Let me make that for you.  Would you like milk or O.J. with that?  Does this sound familiar for anyone else?  Probably, but for those of you that get up in the morning, put on what I consider to be “nice clothes” and head to some place other than your kitchen to perform tasks that you earn a “paycheck” for you get a break from all the beck and call bitch work that a Stay at Home Mama does not.  AND most likely someone (hopefully your boss or clientele) appreciate you and tell you such.  I miss HEARING how much people appreciate my hard work.  I am not going to lie… I NEED someone to tell me I’m appreciated.  It’s the small things that matter most to me (figuratively and literally).  I need some form of accolades.  For example, when I am able to do the seemingly impossible such as drop off two little boys at two different schools at two different times, then head home while my two month old’s (hopefully) snoozing, and do the dishes, dust the downstairs, vacuum and get laundry started just in enough time to pick up one little boy and feed him lunch while I nurse the baby in the school’s parking lot.  Finish with enough time to drive over to the other little boy’s school to pick him up and head home to feed him as well.  All this and it’s only one in the afternoon!  Are you impressed?  I’m always impressed.  Sometimes I do a little dance just to show myself how impressed I am.  Did I mention I work in both boys’ classrooms, that each son participates in an after school program, and I do a shit ton of fundraising for my son’s co-op? I do all of this without pay and with very little accolades, but I’ve never felt better about any accomplishment ever.  And I’ve never been so exhausted, but no one notices all that hard work. Not the children and certainly not the hubby. He just knows that when he gets home from work… the house is decent, dinner is made, bills are paid, and his kids are alive. Awesome.

I know this is absolutely terrible of me, but I just love leaving the Hubby home with the kids for an extended period of time… like over two hours, because when I return he is usually overjoyed to see me, in need of alcohol, and EXHAUSTED and irritable and all he did was keep the kids ALIVE while I was out.  There was no cleaning, (to be perfectly honest it looks like a cyclone hit while I was away every time) and he didn’t even have to leave the house with our children let alone keep a schedule and it probably took every ounce of his existence to keep our children alive in my absence.  I absolutely love coming home to a beat up, exhausted hubby because in that moment he appreciates what I do SO MUCH.  Scratch that, MY hubby appreciates everything I do for this family all the time.  He just doesn’t praise me as much as my needy heart would like.  My problem lies with the other women out there that want to compare being a “working mom” versus a “stay at home mom”.  I “work” my ASS off.  I just don’t get to shower before I take on the day and I don’t do it wearing heels. I feel like women that stay home with their children are seen as less capable when they deserve to be put on a pedestal and rendered goddesses for their choice of family over fortune.

I realize I’m getting older and I fall into a category now that I may not be too fond of called “old fashioned”.  Although I don’t feel that to be an appropriate categorization for someone that’s an advocate of COMMON DECENCY, but in this digital and completely non-conversational era that I find myself in… I guess I am old-fashioned because I would NEVER deliver any news to a friend via text that so obviously needs to be said face-to-face.  Or hell, at the very least, on the telephone.  And anyone that knows me knows that I have an irrational discord of talking on the phone so if I’m dialing you to have an uneasy exchange you should know how necessary it is.  There comes a time when you put your big girl panties on (I hate the word panties) and use your actual voice to tell your so-called GREAT friend that you can’t fulfill a previously agreed upon situation that will greatly affect said great friend’s day-to-day life.  Yeah.  Call me crazy, but… it’s absolutely not okay.  I realize it’s difficult to tell someone you care for something she most definitely doesn’t want to hear, but TOUGH SHIT.  Welcome to the land of adults where you do shit that you don’t WANT to do because it’s the RIGHT thing to do.  So, basically in a very vague nutshell I lost a great friend without ever interacting with her through the entire situation because it wasn’t necessary in her eyes.  I’m guessing.  I can’t say for sure because…  I haven’t actually TALKED to her.  In almost a month.  But she texts me.  She won’t return any of my calls.  Or immediately answer any of my texts.  Does anyone else think this is as nutzo as I do?!  I’ve really been trying to wrap my mind around this.  I mean, what it really comes down to (in my old-fashioned mind) is this chick must’ve so badly NOT wanted to deal with my reaction to said situation that she would rather put me off, and put me off, and put me off so I would (being the smart person that I am) figure out what was happening FOR MYSELF without her ever actually confirming it for me until almost three weeks after the fact.  That or she has very little respect for me as a person.  Honestly, how do you continue a friendship with someone who would rather avoid a perceived confrontation by avoiding me all together, then deal with a difficult conversation head on?  Clearly my friendship means very little to her.  I’m baffled.  And I’m hurt.  Now you all have to hear me rant about it.  

How the fuck are people so impersonal these days?  How can so many people lack basic social skills, be so disconnected from each other, so removed from personal interaction?  How can you end a relationship via text?!?!  Does this happen in the dating world now?  If so, I am SOOOOOOOO happy to be married and not dealing with the douche lords that deal with such a delicate situation so insensitively.  People deserve face-to-face interaction, no?  So, in theory, by the time Mighty’s old enough to date I guess the courting process will occur completely through Skype because a real night out at a dinner table would be way too intimidating.  Which leads me to another thing…  Why do people go out to restaurants and bars with other people if all they are going to do is be on their phones?  People seem to have no intentions of actually conversing with one another.  I can’t stand seeing people out having a meal with other people, yet every person at the table has her face focused firmly on her phone and NO ONE is talking or interacting with the people right IN FRONT of them because they’re too busy in their virtual reality to take part in REAL reality. 

Have you ever seen the Pixar film Wall-E?  You know when the robot (Wall-E) boards the ship with all the super large, almost completely immobile residents that hardly know each other exists because they’re too busy being scooted around in large recliners, eating junk and watching a screen that’s permanently perched five inches from their faces?  The people that have to relearn how to walk and have no clue what a plant is?  Yeah, that’s what I see the future to be with the way things are panning out.  It’s very Orwellian dystopia, but in animation… and regarding social ineptness among other things. Okay, I’m done.  Just please do ME a favor and don’t be the person that communicates important information through a text when you so clearly have the time (and hopefully the decency and respect) to TALK to someone you care about in person or at least on the phone because otherwise you’re never going to be taken seriously.  Ever.

I mean it when I say I got my ass kicked all week long.  Every. Single. Day.  Honestly, I can smell my body odor as I type because everyone knows Mama doesn’t get to shower every day like normal people.  It’s like a three-times-a-week at best event and this week I easily needed two showers each day.  Or is that just in my household?  Anyway… It was Famous’ first week of kindergarten and Slim’s first week of preschool.  Yay for milestones and excited little boys! Boo for little hiccups that turned into disasters that could’ve been avoided, but instead contributed to my hellish week that I’m glad has ended.  Por ejemplo…   I was phoneless for five days.  A water bottle leaked all over the inside of my diaper bag and my phone.  Bye bye phone and photos and messages and phone numbers that I hadn’t backed up since January!  See ya!  No worries that I had a baby in that time and all the precious little videos and eight million candid photos that I took are gone.  EFF!  But I digress…  Apparently in those five days a principal’s message was sent to me regarding the first day of school and how all classes start at 8:05.  Even the later gator kinder class that my Famous is in.  I did not get that message.  So guess which asshole walked into her son’s classroom two hours late on his first day of school???  This asshole.  Let me repeat, EFF!!  The Hubby and I exchange astonished looks as Mrs. Kindergarten says, “Oh they sent a message out about coming early today… I guess you didn’t get it?”  NO, we TOTALLY got it.  We just wanted to walk in two hours late to our son’s first day of school so we could establish ourselves as the slacker family.  That way the bar is set REALLY low… DUH.  She also said that there was a reminder posted next to the class roster the day before.  Guess who checked out the class roster to find out which class Famous was in??  THE HUBBY.  Guess who received the look of death as soon as Mrs. Kindergarten told me about that reminder?  THE HUBBY. I was fuming, I was mortified but more importantly I was worried that Famous would be discombobulated due to my screw up.  I apologized profusely to Mrs. KIndergarten and bent down and squeezed Famous  as hard as I could and wished him a wonderful hour and twenty minutes left of school and held back my tears until I could push my way out of the door.  How did this happen?  I was crushed.  I was angry.  I was pissed at myself.  EFF.  It’s times like these that I truly feel like I let my child down.  Even when, in reality, I could do nothing to stop it from happening.  Nothing I did caused this, but I’m still writhing in guilt that I couldn’t prevent this from happening and I sure as hell can’t change it.  It is what it is.  Luckily, when I picked Famous up from school he was grinning from ear to ear and was completely unscathed from the perceived disaster that had taken place.  All my worry and anguish was pointless.

I should’ve known, based on that event, there would be more “little earthquakes” throughout the week.  Famous’ second day I forgot his snack in the fridge.  Which isn’t the biggest flub up except Slim had a dentist appointment directly after dropping Famous off so, obviously, I was pretty late to that.  I spent most of that day running from one place to the next, with a dazed and numb Slim, feeding Mighty in the parked car while people stared intently at me.  What?  It was way too hot to have a hooter-hider smothering the poor girl and I was sweating like a pig already. The last thing I needed was more clothing so deal with it.  

I’m pretty sure I gave the boys whatever they asked for for dinner that night.  Oh, you want turkey roll-ups, Cheetos, and a juice box for dinner?  Done.  Why?  Because I’m exhausted and I can’t deal with one more difficult situation where I have to fight with or explain myself to a three-year old.  And Slim knows when to act up.  His timing is impeccable.  He’ll wait until I’m nursing Mighty, or she’s almost asleep, or she’s crying incessantly to throw himself down on the ground and join in or swing at his brother, or choose not to eat his food, or scream about not getting what he wants. Por ejemplo:  It’s Slim’s first day of preschool (Thursday) and I finish taking the obligatory first day of school photo in front of our house when I tell him (and the others) to make sure to wipe your feet on the mat when entering the house because the grass was wet.  I guess The Hubby said thank you to Famous for following directions, but didn’t say the same thing to Slim and he LOST IT.  I didn’t find out until we were half way to school what it was that Slim was having a coronary about because he was mumbling, crying, screaming, and mumbling some more.  So we showed up to Slim’s first day of preschool late and Famous, Mighty, and the Hubby didn’t get to walk us down to the school because if they had Famous would’ve been late to his school and that would have just been par for the course to Mrs. Kindergarten and I wouldn’t have that so they just dropped us off.  Slim was all red-faced and puffy as we walked in.  Not exactly how I pictured either of the boys’ first days playing out.  I’m pretty sure that’s 95% of my problem… I envision scenarios and EXPECT them to turn out as such.  My bad.  Expectations equal disappointment.  I definitely need to start expecting nothing and hope for the best.  I will say that just when I thought I was the world’s worst mother I would have little triumphs.  When Mighty FINALLY decided to nap longer than thirty minutes I was able to get laundry started.  Also, I bribed Slim with the promise of an otter pop if he bounced Mighty in her bouncy chair while I mopped the kitchen floor.  Total success.  Famous made his and Slim’s breakfast TWICE this week so I could get Mighty and myself dressed.  Score!  The boys showered successfully without killing one another and were totally clean!  Heck yeah! While grocery shopping a woman complimented my children and their good behavior, huge misconception, but flattering nonetheless!  So, with each complete fail (in my mind) followed a win that would brighten my outlook and allow me to push forward with my day.  I was sweaty and exhausted, but optimistic and feeling accomplished because without the bad in my day… how would I know the good?  Am I right?  Huh?  Huh?

Damn it’s a tough job being Mama and I’m learning more every day.  To those Mamas out there with more children, older children, a completely absent baby daddy, or the ability to wake up early enough to shower, dress, and put makeup on your face…  I commend you.  Cheers to (barely) surviving my first week of two school schedules and an infant in tow!

Famous

How did the Hubby NOT see this reminder?

Slim